A Beginning in the End
by theoldandthenew
Summary: Set directly after the war at Hogwarts; ignores epilogue. Harry charges himself with Hermione's care after she is injured in the battle. This closeness causes long-supressed feelings to be brought to light.
1. Chapter 1

**If you're reading this, then good job! You've successfully chosen to read my story, and I greatly appreciate you for it. Now, this story takes place after the Final Battle and follows cannon... mostly. Since I think Ron and Hermione make the worst couple in the history of couples, I ignore the fact that they kissed in Deathly Hallows. This story also ignored the epilogue completely, that terribly thing. So, hopefully everyone is in character, and you find that this is a somewhat plausible turn of events.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it from the books, I don't own it. Everything else is pretty much mine, though. Enjoy!**

One week ago this day Lord Voldemort had finally been defeated. The survivors and their families were convened at Hogwarts to celebrate and mourn together. Newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall had commissioned a feast for all the families taking refuge at Hogwarts. Unlike Ron, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, Seamus and Neville and Luna who were all sitting in the Great Hall both rejoicing and still grieving, Harry Potter was sleeping hunched over on a bed in the Hogwarts Infirmary. He'd barely left the chair beside this particular bed all week, only moving from his perch when absolutely necessary. He'd made a brief appearance at the feast to thank everyone for their support and make his plate before returning to the Infirmary to eat. He refused to stay away from her for more than thirty or so minutes at a time.

In the beginning, Madam Pomfrey had tried her hardest to force Harry to leave, to return to his dorm and get some rest. She had treated his wounds quickly, but the stubborn boy would not have it. He'd only asked for a chair to sit next to her bed and to be notified of any changes in her condition. When the healer realized Harry's determination, she made sure to keep the next bed over empty for his use as soon as she could spare it.

After eating some of the food he'd brought with him from the Great Hall, Harry laid his head on the side of Hermione's bed and fell asleep with her hand clutched in his. It was while he was asleep that Hermione began to regain consciousness.

Her sense of hearing returned first. It had almost startled her; she'd been in the quiet darkness for so long. She listened intently, still on guard, as she waited for her other senses to return. She heard the soft voice of what she thought was a woman in the distance and the quiet breathing of someone much, much closer.

After listening to the breathing for a moment –using each breath as a means of keeping time –she began to recognize smells. Her surroundings had a very clean scent, very crisp and nothing at all like the dirty, irony smell of the battlefield. There was also a hint of musk, a very earthy and refreshing smell. It was somewhat familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

While she pondered this enticing scent, she began to feel her hands and feet, arms and legs. And as this feeling was returned to her, she realized that she was rather sore and her head was pounding. But she also realized that there was a warm pressure on her right hand. It felt very nice, but confused her greatly; the last thing she remembered was watching Harry seemingly return from the dead and engage Voldemort in the duel that would end one of their lives forever. Then, everyone was fighting again. Curses were flying like crazy around her as the forces of good and evil fought for dominance once more. She had just stunned the Death Eater with whom she was fighting and turned to see how Harry was faring; what she saw was a shock for sure but a huge relief as well. Voldemort lay dead on the floor, his lifeless form ashen and unmoving. It was the best thing she'd ever seen. She sighed in contentment just as Harry turned and met her gaze. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he began to return her smile before a look of absolute horror contorted his features. She turned to see the cause of his distress as he yelled her name and the last thing she remembered was seeing the streak of bright purple light headed straight for her.

Remembering this and extremely anxious to know what had become of her friends and family, Hermione forced her eyes open. She squinted at the soft light and watched as her surroundings became more and more clear. There were beds across the room from her and the windows above them were dark; it was night. How long had she been out?

She very gently turned her head to the right to see a tangle of black hair on the bed by her hand. She smiled; he was all right. He was breathing gently, his glasses askew on his face. He was pale and perhaps a little thinner than she remembered, but he was alive. As she continued to look at his sleeping face, she realized that the warm pressure on her hand was his hand.

She sighed and closed her eyes again for a moment; she was so _tired_. But she knew it was time to wake up and join the real world again, to face the devastation that everyone else had been dealing with for who-knows-how-long while she slumbered. Though she didn't know how long she had been asleep, she could sense it was a while.

Opening her eyes again, she focused her energy on shaking the hand Harry was holding. She really didn't want to wake him up –he looked like he could use the sleep –but she needed answers. After a minute of her best efforts at shaking her hand, he began to stir. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up in his chair, wiping his face with his free hand. When he finally looked up at Hermione, a giant grin broke out on his face.

"Hey," she said, her voice coming out as more of a croak than anything else. She grimaced at the sound.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he replied softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"How long…?" The question hung in the large open space of the hospital wing. She saw his face register an emotion that she couldn't quite place but that she knew wasn't a good sign.

"Seven days. The seven longest days of my life," he said, shaking his head. He looked like a tormented man, she thought.

"A week, a whole week? That's so long. What about everyone else?" So much could've happened in a week; how many of her friends were still alive, how much happiness had she lost?

"The Weasleys sans Fred are with Neville, Luna, Seamus, and Dean in the Great Hall. McGonagall is having a feast for everyone taking refuge here. Teddy is with Andromeda," Harry sighed at this and Hermione felt as though she would cry at the implications. She smiled a watery smile, encouraging him to go on. "Everyone's families and the Order are here. Everyone was a little worse for wear at first, but they all seem fine now. Madam Pomfrey does quick work, as you can see," he said, motioning around the empty room. All the beds had been full after the battle. A few days later, however, Hermione was the only one left.

"Why… why aren't you out there with them?" she asked after a minute of contemplating everything she'd just learned.

"Don't be daft, Hermione. I watched you fall and there was nothing I could do about it. And when Madam Pomfrey said you'd be out for a while, I just had to stay."

Hermione felt her eyes sting as her heart swelled with appreciation for her longest and best friend. He'd stayed; he'd stuck by her like she'd always stuck by him.

"Thank you," she managed, though her voice cracked.

"Don't –don't thank me. It's my fault you're in this mess anyways," he said, and she could hear the sadness in his voice. "Besides, I knew you'd worry yourself sick again if I wasn't here when you woke up." He was trying to lighten the mood; she smiled halfheartedly at him.

"Harry–"

"It's good to see you're awake, Miss Granger. You've been out for quite some time." Madam Pomfrey had chosen this moment to check on Hermione; she bustled over to her bedside and addressed Harry. "And you, Potter, why didn't you notify me when she woke up?"

"I'm sorry, but she's only been awake a minute," he replied, looking sheepish. He sat there quietly for the next few minutes as Hermione was examined by the Healer. She was given a clean bill of health and instructions to simply rest and take the prescribed potions for the next few days. Harry sighed with relief at this news, and Hermione could almost see the weight lift from his shoulders.

"Good. So, we're free to go, then?" Harry asked in what Hermione thought was a somewhat hopeful tone. She looked at him questioningly for just a moment before Madame Pomfrey replied in the affirmative and gave Harry a case of potions before wishing them both well and walking back to her office. He nodded thankfully and turned back to Hermione, who hadn't left her spot in the bed since she'd woken. "Ready?"

"Ready to go where?" she asked, confused. She really didn't feel like going to the Great Hall and being forced to mingle with her surviving friends nor did she feel like trekking up the endless flights of stairs to the girls' dorm. She just felt like resting, like closing her eyes and sleeping for another week.

"Grimmauld," was all he said.

"Grimmauld?" she repeated questioningly, not moving an inch and clearly not understanding.

Harry sighed. "When madam Pomfrey told me that when you woke up, _if _you woke up, you'd need to be somewhere quiet and comfortable with someone to look after you. So, I had Kreacher clean you out a room."

"Oh, Harry, thank you! I –that sounds wonderful," she said, her eyes prickling for the third time since she'd woken up. Harry was so wonderful.

"It's no problem. Of course Mrs. Weasley offered to have you at the Burrow, but it seemed like you wouldn't get much peace there."

"You're probably right," she agreed, smiling up at him.

"So… you ready to go?" he asked again, looking down at her expectantly. She nodded slowly as to not further agitate her already ailing head. She sat up fully and threw the covers off herself. When she saw that she was in one of her own dressing gowns, she was confused and a little embarrassed to be so dressed in front of Harry. Ignoring the blush that crept up her neck to her cheeks, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling every ache in her body much more acutely than before.

She gladly took the hand Harry held out for support and got to her feet. Her legs were shaky, but she managed to stand though still gripping Harry's helping hand.

"Harry, how are we getting there because I'm not sure–"

"We'll be traveling by portkey; I didn't think you'd be very keen on the idea of apparating," he cut her off, smiling as he took a pen out of his pocket. Hermione wrapped her slim hand around the end Harry wasn't holding, and the object began to glow faintly before they were being tugged through space. Harry landed on his feet in the foyer of Grimmauld a second before Hermione, just in time to gather his wits and catch Hermione as her landing had not been so steady. His right arm wound round her waist, steadying her and pulling her to him in the same move. She was a little shaken and placed a hand on his chest to steady herself; she was tired and weak and suddenly quite hungry.

"Up we go," Harry said, bending down to pick her up. She squeaked when her legs were taken from under her by Harry's arm. Cradling her like an infant, Harry began ascending the narrow, creaky stairs to the third floor.

"Harry! Put me down," Hermione demanded, weakly hitting his chest in protest.

"Absolutely not. You heard what Madam Pomfrey said: you need your rest. I'm not going to let you do anything straining or stressful while you're here," he replied, looking down at her for a second before focusing on the stairs again.

They were on the third floor landing much sooner than Hermione would have expected; Quidditch must've done Harry well, she thought. Harry walked her to a slightly ajar door down the hall and gently kicked it open. Hermione gasped at what she saw, looking all around as Harry set her down on the bed.

"This is amazing, Harry. Is this really one of the rooms that we cleaned out when we were here last?" she asked as she found a comfortable position on the bed. She patted the empty space next to her when she was settled. Harry smiled and sat next to her on the bed.

"Yes, Kreacher is really a very capable interior decorator," he replied, leaning his head back onto the headboard and laughing a deep laugh. Hermione reveled in the sound; it was the first time she'd heard him laugh in a long time, and it was a warm sound. It felt like home.

"You didn't have to do this. You could've simply given me one of the smaller rooms on the second floor, so you didn't have to carry me all the way up here," she said turning her head to look at him much too quickly. She brought her hand to her head and rubbed her temples.

"I'm staying in Sirius' old room; I like it best. And I put you in this room because it's the only other room up here. I wanted you to be close in case you need something. Speaking of which," he said, getting up from the bed, "I think you need some of the potions Madam Pomfrey send with us. I'll go get them and be right back."

He began walking toward the door but stopped when Hermione called him. He turned back to her, waiting.

"Could, um, could you get me something to eat?" she asked, smiling shyly.

Harry couldn't help thinking how cute she looked but quickly dismissed the thought. This was his best friend, his _injured_ best friend. He was supposed to be looking after her, not pining after her.

"Of course," he replied, returning her smile with his own lopsided grin. "What do you want?"

"Anything will do, really. Some soup or something sounds good."

"You got it," he said, nodding before turning and leaving the room. He walked down the two flights of stairs to the entry, passing the portrait of Mrs. Black quietly before going down another flight of stairs to the kitchen. He called Kreacher, who appeared promptly without making a noise.

"Yes, Master Potter?" he croaked, bowing so low that his long nose touched the dark floor.

"Could you make some soup for Hermione?"

"Of course, Master Potter. Does she prefer a kind?"

"Vegetable stew is her favorite," Harry replied, inwardly smiling at his knowledge of his best friend. Kreacher nodded and scurried off. While he was busy working, Harry grabbed two pumpkin juices. By the time he had returned, Kreacher had a large bowl of soup on a tray. Harry placed the drinks on the tray and took it from the old house elf.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry turned to leave with the tray, moving carefully as to not spill the soup. "Also, could you take the box of potions in the hall up to her room? Oh, and the rooms look great," he turned and said before exiting the kitchen. Kreacher bowed again, and Harry thought he could see a hint of a smile on his wrinkly old face before he disappeared. He smiled himself as he made his way back up to the third floor. When he entered Hermione's room, Regulus' old room, he immediately paused. She was lying under the covers, her head was leaned back on the headboard and her eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful, a contrast to her time in the infirmary. While she had been unconscious she was pale and seemed to have been stressed. Her face was often drawn tight and she sometimes twitched fitfully.

He walked slowly and quietly to her bedside table and set the tray down, taking his pumpkin juice with him. He slowly got back on the bed and sat against the headboard, thankful to not have woken Hermione as he moved into place. Once settled, he took a minute to really look at the room.

Kreacher really had done a good job. He'd redecorated in Gryffindor colors, scarlet and gold, which was a refreshing change from the previous Slytherin décor. They were sitting on a full size four-poster bed –very reminiscent of the beds in the dormitories at Hogwarts –that was covered in a fluffy gold comforter with red curtains tied up at each post. Heavy curtains matching those on the four-poster framed the windows on either side of the bed, and a fire flickered warmly in the fireplace opposite. It was an overall cozy environment, and Harry wondered what Kreacher had done to Sirius' old room. He'd check it later. Presently he was enjoying relaxing in the warmth of the fluffy bed with his best friend safe and sleeping beside him.

They both lay there lazily, Hermione sleeping and Harry dozing, for a while before Hermione woke up again. Harry felt her stirring and turned to her. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled at him.

"There is some vegetable soup on the table," he said and motioned to the table. "I know it's your favorite. There's a pumpkin juice, too."

"Thank you, Harry. I'm really hungry," she said, taking the tray from the table carefully. She looked hungrily at the large bowl and did not hesitate to scoop a spoonful of the still-steaming soup into her mouth. Harry watched her eat for a few minutes before getting up to get the potion that she was supposed to take. He took the vial of light purple liquid from the box Madam Pomfrey had given him, which Kreacher had placed just inside the door, and returned to the bed. He handed it to her when she had had her fill of soup, taking the tray and placing it on the table beside the bed. She pulled the stopper out and, in one gulp, downed the nasty liquid.

"Ick," she said, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her tongue.

_I don't think I know what I got myself into,_ Harry thought as the idea of his best friend of six years being cute crossed his mind once again.

"I know, it seems like the better the potion the worse it tastes," he said, chuckling slightly as he remembered all the disgusting potions he'd been forced to drink during his years at Hogwarts. "Maybe you should work on that when you become a world famous healer, yeah?"

Hermione swatted his arm lightly, liking the way he was able to joke with her.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," she replied, rolling her eyes and laughing. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Hermione sighed and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and listened as her breathing became more slow and steady.

Content that she was sound asleep, Harry dislodged himself from her and stood up as slowly and quietly as he could manage. Luckily, Hermione did not wake from her slumber. Taking one last look at her sleeping form, he left her room to go inspect his own. He'd been too worried about getting Hermione settled to really appreciate the changes that had been made to the house much less look in all the rooms. He quietly opened the dark wood door and saw the transformed room for the first time.

The paint hadn't needed any change, since Sirius had already decorated in Gryffindor colors; but the room was much more lively now that the cobwebs and dust were gone. The bed was the exact same as Hermione's: a full size four-poster with scarlet curtains and a fluffy gold comforter. There was a desk in the corner with fresh parchment, a quill, and an inkpot. The closet was filled with his robes and the few normal clothes he owned. _I'll have to work on getting some more regular clothes,_ he thought. Now that he was free of the Dursleys, he could do as he pleased. This was an exhilarating thought; he never had to see those awful people again.

After making his way around the room, he returned to the desk in the corner. He sat down and began to write a letter to Ron:

_Ron,_

_I hope you and your family are settled back in at the Burrow. Sorry we didn't stop by the Great Hall to see everyone before leaving; I just didn't want Hermione to overwork herself talking to everyone there. _

_We're at Grimmauld, as planned. The place looks great! Kreacher really knows how to redecorate. You know, I think I might consider staying here… like permanently. It really is a nice house now that it's fixed up. _

_Anyways, I know Hermione will want to see you soon. You're all welcome whenever and we'd be glad to have you. See you soon._

_Harry_

Harry placed the letter in an envelope and turned to send it off when he realized that he didn't have an owl. The thought of being without Hedwig, his longest friend and first present ever, made his eyes sting. He shook the thought out of his head and called Kreacher instead. The elf appeared instantly, bowing slightly.

"Kreacher, can you sent this letter to the Burrow? Please?" he added, remembering all Kreacher had done for him and the endless lectures Hermione had given him about the proper way to treat house elves.

"Yes, Master Potter. Does Master require anything else?"

"No. Thank you, Kreacher," Harry replied. The elf disappeared, and Harry was left alone in his room. With nothing else to do and feeling tired, he lay down on the bed and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Harry woke to the sound of someone calling his name and shaking his shoulder lightly. He blinked his eyes open to see a mass of bushy brown hair framing the smiling face of his best friend. He stretched and sat up, realizing that he'd fallen asleep fully dressed and still wearing his shoes and glasses. He saw that Hermione was now wearing a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, looking very cute when he was confused, Hermione thought.

"Well, it is ten in the morning. I woke up about an hour ago and when I found my clothes in the dresser, I figured I'd take a shower," she answered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Shouldn't you be in bed? Did you take your potions already?" he asked, remembering her weakened state.

"Harry, I've been in bed for the past week. I was ready to get up, and I promise I haven't been up long. And no, I haven't taken the potions yet. I was going to wait and take them with breakfast. Speaking of which, hungry?"

"You bet. Just let me go take a shower, and I'll meet you down in the Library. Tell Kreacher to fix whatever you want, and I'll have the same," he said, and they both stood. Hermione smiled and nodded before turning to leave. Once she was out of his room, he walked to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt, and fresh underwear. Twenty minutes later he was padding down the stairs to the first floor, his bare feet making little noise on the wooden floor.

He walked into the library to find Hermione sitting in one of the oversized chairs in front of the fire, a heavy tome in her lap. He walked towards the fire and plopped down on the couch.

"What're you reading?" he asked, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the writing.

"Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré les Pieds. It's from the play _Malecrit. _I've wanted to read it for a while but have always been so busy with schoolwork and prefect duties and helping this crazy guy I know defeat the darkest wizard who ever lived and all. I just never had time to read for pleasure. It's strange, isn't it? Being free to do whatever we want without the threat of death hanging over us anymore. We're free, Harry," she said, sounding very much in awe of the things she spoke.

"I know; it's crazy. I never really took time to think about my future and now, I don't really know what to do," he said, looking deep into the flickering flames.

"Well, you've got all the time in the world to think about it now." She moved from the chair she was in to sit next to Harry on the couch, covering his hand with hers. "You'll figure it out, I know you will."

"Thanks," he said lamely, feeling a little awkward and unsure about what else to say. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"

"Boys, always thinking with your stomachs," she laughed, poking him lightly in the side. "But I told Kreacher to make some eggs, bacon, and biscuits that we can wash down with some good old orange juice."

"That sounds wonderful; I'm starving." Just as Harry finished his sentence, Kreacher appeared with a very large tray in his hands. On this tray were two plates, each overflowing with food. There were two cups of orange juice and a letter, as well.

"Master Potter received a letter from Mr. Weasley this morning," Kreacher said, setting the tray between them on the couch.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, nodding to the elf before he disappeared. Harry picked up the letter and read it aloud to Hermione:

_Harry, _

_It's really nice to be home. Things aren't the same without Fred, but we're managing. I'm glad Grimmauld isn't so creepy as it was before. That place was awful. _

_Mom is still a little upset that you wouldn't let her take care of Hermione, but she'll get over it. She was really excited when I told her that you invited us to visit. I think we'll be coming in a few days, once everything gets settled here. I'll write to let you know for sure, though. Anyways, give Hermione my best and tell her to relax for once in her life. I'll owl soon._

_Ron_

"Poor Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said knowing that Harry would understand what she meant without saying it. "It wasn't your fault, you know," she added when Harry's head fell. She hated how he always blamed himself for the death of others. It was never his fault; it was Voldemort's fault, and she wished he would understand that.

"I know… at least, I'm starting to understand. It's just hard. It's just that my whole life the people I love have died. That kind of sends a certain message, you know?" He smiled ever so slightly as he said this, but Hermione could hear the sadness in his voice. She smiled sadly in return as she said, "You've had a really hard time, but it's over now. We don't have to worry about it anymore. Because of what you did, nobody died in vain, Harry."

She reached over their food and took his hand in hers again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled a real smile at her before looking down at their food.

"We'd better eat before it gets cold," he said, squeezing her hand once before letting it go.

"You'll never remember you're a wizard, will you? There's a heating charm on it; it won't get cold." She laughed and picked up her plate, glad to have a home-cooked meal again. It had been too long.

They ate in companionable silence, piling their dirty dishes back on the tray before leaning back on the couch. Harry rubbed his stomach appreciatively.

"That was great."

"Mm, I agree," Hermione said, moving the tray onto the floor so she could rest her head on Harry's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders like he had the night before and couldn't help thinking how easily he could get used to sitting with her in such a way.

"I've been thinking about my parents," she said after a few minutes, breaking the friendly silence. This sentence made Harry's heart stop; he hadn't thought about her parents. They were still somewhere in Australia, completely unaware of the war and the fact that they even had a daughter. Of course she would have to go find them and restore their memories; of course the happiness he'd felt the past day with her had to come to an end.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, desperately attempting to keep the fear and sadness from his voice. She sat up to look at him, a strange expression on her face.

"I –I'm not sure. I know I have to find them but…" she replied, looking down at her hands insecurely.

"But?" Harry asked, bending his head to catch her eyes.

"I'm not really sure what to do. I feel like I should go on my own, find them myself. But I'm afraid," she said, her voice breaking on the last word. She knew they had to talk about it, but how disheartened she was that the happiness that had settled over them just moments before was now gone.

"Hermione," Harry said, pulling her to him, "you don't have to be afraid. Everything's going to be ok. I'm sure they're fine and no one is going to hurt you. With Voldemort gone and most of his Death Eaters in Azkeban, you'll be safe." He rubbed her back soothingly, wishing to ease her stress.

"I'm not worried about that," she sniffled, pulling back and looking at him through watery lashes. "I just… I know I need to do this on my own, but I'm afraid I won't be able to."

"What do you mean?" He was confused, now.

"Well, it's always been me and you and Ron or me and you, at least. It's never been just me. I'm no good at this kind of thing; I'm just the brains of the operation. What if –what if I can't find them?" She looked truly on the verge of tears, and Harry's heart sank at the sight. He didn't want her to be upset. They'd seen so many terrible things and been in so many distressing situations over the past few years; he just wanted her to be happy finally.

"Oh, Hermione. Of course you will. You're not just the brains of the operation. You're just as good at adventures as me or Ron, even better: you've got the brains _and_ the courage. You're going to find them just fine, I'm sure. And you know I'll go with you, if you don't want to go alone. You never have to be alone," he said, wiping away the lone tear that had slipped from her eye and down her cheek.

"You're too kind, Harry. I'm sure I'll figure something out. Besides, it's not like you'd let me leave before I finished my potions anyway," she said, laughing a little.

"Of course not. I won't let you out of my sight until you're completely and totally better. I've already almost lost you more times than I'm comfortable with. So, your parents will just have to wait a few more days while I nurse you back to health," he said, an all too familiar smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, if that's how it must be then I shan't complain. A little break from everything here actually sounds quite nice," she replied, snuggling into the couch and sighing contentedly. They sat in the library for a while, Harry answering Hermione's endless questions about what had happened the week she was unconscious. By two in the afternoon, Hermione was satisfied that she was up to date and just in time, too, as her stomach growled loudly in the middle of what Harry was saying.

"Well, how ladylike of you," he laughed, looking curiously at her.

"Oh shut up, Harry. Aren't you the one who's supposed to be looking after me?" she asked innocently, eyes wide with innocence.

"Don't give me that; you were the one endlessly asking questions that you insisted I answer," he replied, mussing her hair a bit.

"Well hmph," came her reply, and she crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head the other way.

"Now, now. Don't be that way; you just tell me what you want and you'll have it before you know it," he said, uncrossing her arms to take her hands in his. When she still didn't look at him, though he could see that she was fighting to keep a smile from gracing her features, he lifted his hand to her chin and gently coaxed her to look at him.

"Well, if you insist," she smiled outright, "I'll have another bowl of that delicious vegetable stew. Please."

Harry nodded and called Kreacher, too comfortable in his current position to get up and go to the kitchen. The house elf appeared instantly, bowing to his master and his guest.

"What can Kreacher do for Master Potter?"

"You can bring us two bowls of vegetable stew, Kreacher. Please," he added upon seeing the glare Hermione shot his way. The elf bowed again and disappeared once more.

"Harry," Hermione began, and Harry could tell he was about to get a classic Hermione lecture; she was feeling quite herself again indeed. "You do pay him, don't you?"

Harry had to suppress both a laugh and a sigh at her firmly set expression. "No, I don't. But," he added quickly, preventing her from starting one of her rants, "I have offered. He wouldn't accept any kind of payment and seemed a little put off when I offered him freedom, really. He likes living here and doing things for me, Hermione. I don't ask anything strenuous of him, I promise." He stopped and took a breath, having gotten everything out in only one. He had been looking away from Hermione and finally chanced a glance at her. She was smiling at him: trying to suppress a laugh, even.

"What?"

"It's just… you looked so scared, like I was going to bite your head off or something," she said, her face going serious again.

"Well, I know you take your spew –I mean S.P.E.W really seriously, but he just won't accept anything."

"It's all right, Harry," she said, her voice ringing with laughter. "I'm not upset. A lot of house elves are so set in their ways and, let's be honest, Kreacher is just too old to _not_ be set in his ways."

They both laughed at this, and soon Kreacher was back with a tray of soup and pumpkin juice. They talked relatively little while they ate, mostly just enjoying the comfy quiet of the other's company. When they were finished eating, Harry made sure Hermione took her potion. After so much relaxation, delicious food, and of course the potions made by Madame Pomfrey, Hermione was feeling much better. She was barely sore at all anymore, and felt like stretching out a bit.

"Harry, let's go for a walk," she said the moment he entered the library, startling him as he returned from a bathroom break.

"A walk? Where?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I don't know, anywhere… just around town. I just want to move around a bit, stretch my legs out some," she said, standing and walking over to him.

"All right, I guess. But we're going under the invisibility cloak."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but upon seeing his serious expression, said instead, "Oh, all right, Harry. If you insist."

He smiled gratefully and turned and walked out of the room again to fetch his cloak. Hermione watched him leave and tried to quiet her thoughts. These thoughts were not new by any means; no, she'd thought about such things for quite a while now. Over the past year, though, she'd had to put them to the back of her mind for a much more worthy cause: the horcrux hunt. But now that she and everyone else in the world was safe, she had time to think about it again, about _him_. It was cruel, really, to allow herself to think about it so much, to allow herself to hope. Hermione knew Harry didn't like her as more than a friend, a sister perhaps. She knew the only reason he broke it off with Ginny was to protect her. She knew she would never be pretty or sporty or perfect enough for Harry. And for the most part, she was ok with it. For the most part, she knew she wanted the absolute best for Harry; and with her frizzy hair, dislike of brooms, and know-it-all attitude, she obviously wasn't the best for him.

That did not stop her, though, from wanting him. It didn't stop her from aching deep down because she knew she could never have him. It had been a dull ache for so long, repressed by more impending, more important matters. Now, however, being completely alone with him and so close to him, the ache made itself known. Something would have to be done.

Harry returned with the cloak, threw it over the both of them, and they make their way out the door and down the street. Harry cast a silencing charm under the cloak and they talked as they walked to a little strip of stores about half a mile away. They passed several clothing boutiques, at which neither of them looked twice. Hermione did, however, make him stop at a jewelry store with a lovely selection of pearls in the window. She was not usually one to stop and fawn over diamonds or jewelry in general, but she'd always loved pearls. Harry watched her as she looked at the jewelry, her tiny hand pressed to the glass. He'd never really realized before just how small her hands were.

He smiled in spite of himself… thinking those kinds of things about Hermione was no good. He'd secretly liked her for ages, but he knew he was not someone she should be with. Before now, he'd always had a price on his head; he was too dangerous for her. And now, he would always be going to meetings and having to deal with the remains of Voldemort's followers. Being the Boy-Who-Lived was a lifetime job, he knew. And that was no life for her. She deserved to be with someone much smarter, much more caring who would have all the time in the world for her.

But he took her hand from the glass anyways, holding it in his as he led her away from the store. She jumped when he'd touched her, but smiled when he kept his hold on her hand as they walked away. They got ice cream from a little parlor on the block, and Harry couldn't help thinking that it was decidedly his worst idea to date as he watched her lick the melting dessert as it dripped down its waffle cone container. Hermione snuck a peak at him while he was very intently eating his own ice cream and smiled to herself. It was so sweet of him to insist on buying her ice cream; but that was just Harry, she knew. He had more money than most, she knew, but he never flaunted it and had no problem sharing it. They walked slowly back to Grimmauld.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, the Weasleys arrived. Hermione thought for sure Mrs. Weasley was going to finish her off where Voldemort and his Death Eathers could not with her bone-crushing hug. Harry watched somewhat anxiously as his adopted mother held onto Hermione for dear life. He knew she would never hurt her intentionally; he was just still anxious about her health. She had been very badly injured and, though she seemed fine, he was still quite anxious. He supposed he had always been a little overprotective towards her. _And it's not because she's a girl or that she doesn't know how to defend herself_, he told himself. _It's because she just seems so small and fragile. _

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding when Mrs. Weasley finally released Hermione. He hugged the woman in turn and found himself gravitating towards Hermione. He wasn't sure if this was due to the fact that they'd been spending so much time close one another lately or his worry for her health. Regardless, he swore to himself after the final battle that he'd never let her be hurt again; even though they were in the company of friends and family, he was intent to keep his promise to himself. Constant vigilance as Mad-Eye had so frequently barked at them.

All of the remaining Weasleys had come, Molly and Arthur, George, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on making dinner for everyone and shooed them all from the kitchen. An hour later, they all found themselves sitting around the crowded table with a feast laid out in front of them. They were all talking jovially, but Harry and Hermione both noticed that everyone looked a little ragged. George seemed to have lost his witty spark and didn't talk so much; Bill and Fleur remained very close to one another throughout the night, and it looked as though both Molly and Arthur had lost a bit of weight. Harry was glad to see, though, that they hadn't lost their Weasley spirit.

Of course, he'd had to explain why he'd insisted on caring for Hermione instead of letting her go to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had seemed quite put out about it at first but readily accepted his reasoning and expressed her joy that they were both alive and well. A sad expression crossed her face as she said this, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and nobody mentioned it. They spoke about what was to be done next, what would happen at Hogwarts and with Hermione's parents.

Some hours later, the group of redheads said their goodbyes, leaving behind three very tired teenagers. Ron had decided to stay until the next day; he'd wanted to stay longer, but his mother had insisted he return home the following day. The trio retired to the den where they where they fell unceremoniously onto the closest piece of furniture; it just so happened to work out that Harry and Hermione were lounged on the couch while Ron sprawled out on the loveseat to its right. The fire cracked lazily in the fireplace, seeming to reflect the atmosphere in the room. Ron yawned loudly, and Hermione sighed contentedly, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled to no one in particular. Many lives had been lost in the war, yes, but they had finally won. Voldemort was finally gone, and he and his two best mates had made it out alive. The future stretched out in front of them like the sea; yes, Harry finally had a real future, a chance to be happy.

"This place really does look nice, Harry," Ron finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

"Thanks," the raven-haired boy –man –replied, "It was mostly Kreacher, though. I came back once I was sure Her –well, once I was sure everything was all right and asked him to fix the place up; I think I'm going to make this my permanent place what with it already being mine."

"Well, who knew the little bugger could decorate?" Ron smirked.

"Just wait until you see the bedrooms; they're great, Gryffindor colors and everything," Hermione said sleepily, her eyes barely open.

Harry looked down at her and chuckled, "We'd better get you to bed." He gently lifted her off of him and stood, offering her his hand. In the absence of his supporting shoulder, she fell sideways onto the couch with a grunt. Both boys just chuckled.

"Come on, Hermione. You don't want to sleep down here. You just got through telling me how great the bedrooms are," Ron said, also standing and dusting off his jeans.

"Mmnh," she mumbled, snuggling deeper into the cushions of the couch. Harry just chuckled and scooped her up, startling both her and Ron. "Harry!" she shrieked, clearly now quite awake. "Harry, put me down! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Honestly, Hermione, it's fine. You're light as a feather. Really!" he added at her disbelieving glare. With a huff of annoyance she relented and relaxed in his arms. Harry nodded and smiled triumphantly before making his way out of the den and to the stairs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her head beneath his chin as he carried her up to her bedroom on the third floor. Ron trudged behind them, yawning every few steps.

Harry set her down just outside her bedroom door, keeping a hand on her waist until he was sure she was steady on his feet. She smiled appreciatively at him before kissing his cheek and saying 'good night' to both of them. They responded with 'good night's in turn, and Harry showed Ron to his room on the second floor before going to his own room to change.

_There he lay, ashen and lifeless on the blood soaked ground. His red, snake-like eyes were glazed over, a grimace forever frozen on his distorted face. _

_Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing. Could it really be over after so long? He turned to see how everyone else was faring, to see if somehow Voldemort's Death Eaters had been destroyed with him. That was not the case, but he could see as he took in the scene before him that his side was faring better than Voldemort's. There were two fighters for every Death Eater now, it seemed. He saw whom he thought were Ginny and Mrs. Weasley fighting Bellatrix a little ways off. They seemed to be handling things fine on their own. Turning a bit further he saw Bill and Fleur going after Greyback; it appeared to be that they, too, had the situation under control. _

_When he turned just a few degrees more his eyes met the warm brown pools of his best friend. She was alive, and she was smiling at him like he was the best thing she'd ever seen. He began to return her smile, grateful that she only had a few scratches when he saw it. One of the nameless death eaters had managed to shoot off a purple spell before falling to the ground, and it was headed straight for her. Harry froze with fear; this could _not_ be happening. He'd just killed the wizard who was the reason she was in danger in the first place; he'd finally made it safe for her and everyone to live normal lives. And for what? For her fall once it was over? No! he chastised himself, and his brain kicked back into action. He was too far to do physically block the spell. Not knowing what else to do, he hastily threw a protection charm her way that reached her just a moment after the purple jet of light impacted with her side. She immediately crumpled to the sodden earth, her body thumping more heavily that Harry thought possible for her light weight. _

"_No!" he screamed as his legs took him much too slowly towards her. He fell to his knees at her side, trembling so violently that he couldn't even check for a pulse. "No, no, Hermione, no…"_

"Harry!"

He bolted upright, moving much too quickly and becoming disoriented. He lay back down and tried to focus on his surroundings. He was in a room, his room at Grimmauld. Someone had been calling his name: Hermione! He turned and saw her standing at the side of his bed, her brow furrowed. He breathed a sigh of relief; she was ok.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

"Nothing I just," he started, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "It's ok, I'm ok." He sat up and scooted over for her to sit down. She perched herself on the edge of the mattress, clearly not convinced.

"Are –are you still having nightmares?" She seemed a little afraid to broach the topic, but her worried, questioning eyes never left his.

"Just one," he replied, realizing it wasn't right to lie to her; she'd know if he was lying and just be more upset, anyways.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed, pulling him into an awkward hug. But he didn't mind; he needed to feel her, to know that she was safe and alive. He inhaled deeply, breathing in that scent that was so determinedly Hermione: vanilla with just a hint of parchment and citrus. "He'd gone now," she said as she pulled away from their embrace. "He's gone, and he can't hurt you or anyone else anymore."

"I know," he said quietly, not looking up at her. How could he tell her that every since the night he defeated him he'd been reliving in his dreams how she'd fallen, how he thought he'd lost her when they finally had a chance to live, how that had broken his heart to pieces?

"Then why the dreams still?"

"They're not," he sighed, "they aren't about him." He still wasn't looking at her, and she did not like it one bit.

"Whatever are they about?" He fixed her with a pointed look, and she nearly gasped at the anguish, the pain she saw in his eyes. "Oh," she breathed, "They're about that night." It wasn't a question. She knew it was true from the look on his face. He just nodded solemnly, not trusting his voice. "I'm sorry, Harry. But look, I'm here and I'm just fine," she said, taking his hand to prove her point.

"I know, and thank the gods. It was just hard, watching you get hit. I'd just killed him and we were winning everywhere I looked. For the first time I thought we were all going to have the future we deserve and then I saw that Death Eater blast that spell off and I froze. You were too far for me to get to, so I shot off a protection charm but it didn't reach you in time, and I was too shaken to see if you had a pulse even; I was so sure you were dead," his voice cracked on the last word and Hermione could only just see the few tears that had spilled from his eyes and were leaving tracks down his cheeks. She wiped them away and leaned up to kiss his forehead. He sighed as more tears slipped down his cheeks at her gesture.

"You really should try to get some sleep, though. It's nearly three in the morning," she said, yawning lightly.

"You're right," he said, "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be silly," she smiled, ruffling his already messy hair. "Good night." She stood and began walking towards the door but was stopped by Harry calling her name. She turned and looked at him expectantly.

"Would you… I mean, would you mind staying?" he stammered, looking quite sheepish. Hermione couldn't help thinking how cute he looked, how like the eleven year-old Harry she met on the train he looked. She'd missed that Harry during the long months they spent hiding out looking for the horcruxes. If she were being honest, she hadn't seen that Harry in years.

She looked at the bed, then back to Harry before replying, "Of course." She walked to the side of the bed he wasn't occupying and crawled under the covers. They lay side by side under the covers, their arms barely brushing. Hermione reached over and took his hand in her own before they both fell asleep.

The next morning, Hermione awoke before Harry. They had shifted drastically during the night; she now lay with her head nestled in the crook of his next, her hand rested on his chest, gently moving up and down with his slow breathing. A blush crept up her neck upon realizing how intimate of a position they were in. The longer she lay there, though, the more she realized exactly how comfortable she was. Her head fit perfectly in the space of between his shoulder and neck and it seemed as though her body had been made to be next to his. She sighed sadly when she realized the path her thoughts had taken. She shouldn't be thinking such things! _He's your best friend who fancies your other best friend's sister!_ she chastised herself.

She sighed sadly but could not bring herself to move; she was entirely too comfortable. Soon, though she couldn't be sure exactly how long it had been since she'd woken up, she began to feel Harry stir. She thought about moving and avoiding the potentially awkward situation their position would create, but decided instead to see how Harry would react.

It took him several minutes to fully gain consciousness but finally he opened his eyes. He scrubbed his face the hand that wasn't smashed between him and Hermione. Then, very suddenly, he seemed to realize that, in fact, one of his arms was smashed between and Hermione. He froze, turned his head very quickly in his direction and, upon seeing her smiling up at him from her place at his shoulder, said, "Hi."

Hermione's smile broadened as she returned his 'hi' with one of her own. He was doing it again, being insufferably cute.

"How, erm, how did you sleep?" he asked, not quite knowing what else to say.

"The important question," she replied, pushing herself up to look at him fully and immediately missing his warmth, "is how did you sleep?"

"Why is my sleep more important that yours?" he asked, pulling himself into an upright position next to her. "Fine, I slept quite well, actually," he said upon seeing the pointed glare she had fixed him with.

"Good, I'm glad. It's about time you start getting some decent sleep," she replied, satisfied.

"But you never answered my question," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "How did you sleep?" he added upon seeing her confused expression.

"Well also; you're very comfortable." The words were out before she could stop them. Her hand flew to her mouth and a blush found its way from her neck to her hairline.

Harry smiled the largest smile Hermione had ever seen grace his features at her comment and said, "Thanks!"

Thinking he took entirely too much pleasure from her discomfort, she got out of the bed, flushed even brighter upon realizing she was only wearing her sleep shorts and a tank top, sans bra, and walked to the door. After peeking out to make sure Ron was not around, she told Harry she'd see him at breakfast and walked back to her own room, mentally berating herself the entire way. Why had she said he was _comfortable?_ Not only comfortable but _very_ comfortable? What was she thinking? That's not something _only_ friends who've just spent the night together say. _Then again,_ she thought, just_ friends don't spend the night together that often, either. _

Sighing, she decided a warm shower would be a good way to relax before she had to see him again. Then she realized Ron would be at breakfast, too. Surely he couldn't know that she'd stayed with him, could he? Harry wouldn't have told him, would he? _Of course not, don't be stupid_. Harry was a perfect gentleman who would never compromise her integrity, she knew. But then she began to think about Ron. What had they been attempting to accomplish with their poorly timed relationship? Did they think it could last long term? Did he only want her because it was one more thing he could take from Harry? Did she only want him because she was too afraid of ruining things with Harry? For the longest time, all she'd ever wanted was to be a normal teenage witch. _Well, looks like I'm finally normal, boy drama and all,_ she thought. With one last furtive sigh, she stepped into the hot shower.

Harry remained in his bed for several minutes after Hermione had left, thinking about everything that had taken place. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd plucked up the courage the night before to ask her to stay; it probably had something to do with the fact that it was dark and he wasn't wearing his glasses, so he couldn't see her expression, or the fact that, at that moment, what he needed more than anything was to feel her and know she was alive and safe. Whatever the reason, he was glad he'd asked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well without the aid of a potion. No bad dreams plagued him while she was there. In fact, he'd dreamt about that night in the tent after Ron had left where they'd shared a dance. It was so out of character for him, but he just hadn't been able to take her hurting any longer. He'd just wanted to do something, _anything_ to cheer her up.

And it had worked, until the song ended and they pulled back to look at one another. His eyes pleaded with her, _please, please just be happy again. Forget about Ron; it's just us now, but we can do this._ He knew she'd seen what he was thinking, and he'd seen something that he couldn't place flash through her eyes before they turned sad, almost stony again. In his dream, however, they'd never stopped dancing. She never went back to being so heartbroken again.

He sighed and got out of bed, headed for the bathroom and a quick shower. _I have the chance to make her happy again, now_, he thought. _We're both alive, and she's here with me. She's _happy_ with me, I just know it._ Ginny's face flashed through his mind for a split second, and he knew he would have to talk with her more later. They'd had a brief conversation after the battle, but they hadn't discussed their relationship or anything of the sort. He knew where they stood, and he was pretty sure she did, too. It was just a matter of speaking with her about it. Heaving one more heavy sigh, he stepped into the hot water and let his thoughts drift to what his future might look like for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Hermione made it down to the dining room, Harry and Ron were already sitting at the table sipping pumpkin juice. Harry was reading the Daily Prophet while Ron looked like he wished he were still in bed. She walked into the room, poured herself a glass of juice, and took the seat next to Harry. Taking a sip from her glass, she leaned over Harry's shoulder to read the headlines.

"Nothing good," he said, tilting the paper her way so she could see it better. After glancing for any useful information but finding none, she shook her head and looked across the table at Ron. Harry folded the paper and set it on the table.

"Thank the gods you're here; I'm starving. Can we have breakfast now?" Ron asked, his question directed at Harry.

"Yes," he replied, suppressing a chuckle and shaking his head slightly.

"He was making us wait for you! I told him you wouldn't care, but he wasn't having it," Ron told Hermione at her questioning glare. "Took you long enough, too," he added, clearly grumpy from not having eaten yet.

"Well, it's lovely to see you, too, Ronald." She rolled her eyes at him.

"What will everyone be having?" Hermione jumped at Kreacher's voice, when had he entered the room?

"Some eggs and toast and bacon and sausage and pancakes and—"

"Ronald! Don't be ridiculous. We'll limit that list to eggs, toast, and bacon, please, Kreacher," Hermione said, promptly cutting off Ron's never ending list. He glared darkly at her and sank lower into his chair, clearly pouting.

"Bloody elf… likes doing it… hungry…" she heard him muttering but ignored as she turned to speak with Harry.

"I finished off my potions this morning," she said, sounding both relieved and saddened by the fact.

"That's great," he said with fake joviality and a smile that was more like a grimace on his face. She nodded, knowing that they both knew what her having finished the potions meant. "How are you feeling?" he leaned in close to ask so Ron, who was still mumbling darkly about his non-fulfilled breakfast list, wouldn't hear. He said this with complete sincerity and worry.

"I feel great, just like new." What she didn't tell him was that she now had a scar that ran a good three or four inches down her right side; she still hadn't told either one of them about the scar on her forearm. Though wounds inflicted without the use of magic can be healed without scarring, Bellatrix had laced her dagger with a magical poison that ensured the scar would forever be visible, would forever mark Hermione as some kind of _other_. She wasn't embarrassed about it, really. She just didn't want to see the looks of outrage and disgust on their faces when she showed them. She didn't want either one of them risking their lives for vengeance; it was done, and she was at peace with it.

They didn't talk too much for the remainder of breakfast. Ron caught them up on what had been happening at the Burrow and complained about having to return so quickly. They returned his sentiments and meant it, for the most part. They didn't _not_ want to see Ron, necessarily. But the wound created by his leaving was still a little raw, and Harry and Hermione had learned to deal with things on their own, had learned to rely on one another. The dynamics of the Golden Trio had changed the instant Ron had left, and it was impossible for it to be the way it once way. They all knew this, but it was still a hard pill to swallow. So, they sat at breakfast talking like old times and pretending things were like they'd always been because they weren't quite ready to face the challenges this new dynamic presented. Not when there were still more important things to consider.

Ron and Harry played a game of wizard's chess in the library while Hermione made herself comfortable in the armchair with the book she'd been reading the day before. Ron whopped with joy when his bishop took out Harry's king. Harry just smiled sadly; he was used to losing this game to Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and smiled gently at Harry. He always did lose to Ron with grace; Hermione wondered if it had something to do with Ron's feelings of inadequacy compared to Harry. Probably, she decided. Regardless, she was just happy to see her boys happy again.

Ron left after forcing Harry to lose one more match of chess, his face a little downtrodden as he disapparated. Harry and Hermione turned to one another once he'd left, both knowing what would come next and dreading it. They sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the library. They just sat and looked at one another for what seemed like an eternity before Hermione quietly broke the silence.

"I have to go find them."

"I know," he replied, just as quietly. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Hermione smiled sadly at him; he was always there for her. "Harry, of course I _want _you to come with me. But I know this is something I'm going to have to do on my own. I'm going to have to deal with them once I find them, explain what happened and why I did what I did. I don't know what they're going to do, but I know it's going to be a long process," she sighed. Harry just nodded; he'd known what her answer was going to be when he asked. He just didn't like the thought of Hermione being out there by herself, having to deal with finding and restoring her parents memories alone.

"I'm, uh, I'm going to leave on Sunday," she said, sounding like she wished what she was saying wasn't true.

"That's the day after tomorrow." Two days, was that really all he was going to get with her before she left for who knows how long?

"I know. I just… I need to set things right, and I need to do it before I lose my nerve and make you come with me," she said sheepishly, smiling sadly at him.

"Well, we should make sure you've got everything you need before you leave."

"Oh, don't worry, I've got a list," she replied, smiling broadly. He rolled his eyes at her; of course she had a list already. She darted up to her room to retrieve the list and brought for them to inspect. Harry saw that she was planning on taking the tent they'd used all those months they were looking for horcruxes.

"No," he said, pointing to the neatly written _tent_ on the paper.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I'll be damned if I let you stay in that little tent again, hiding out on the edges of villages all by yourself. No," he repeated, his voice steely and his gaze harsh.

"What do you expect me to do, Harry, stay in five-star hotels every night?" She was incredulous; was he really speaking to her that way? Did he really think he could tell her what to do? Sure, the tent wasn't the best thing in the world, but it would get her through. It was a place to sleep and shelter and she could cook in it, too. What else did she really need?

"Yes, that's exactly what I expect. Well, maybe not five-star hotels, but you'll be taking some of my money and a large supply of polyjuice. That way you can stay in disguise in the city. I don't want you hiding out like some criminal; we aren't criminals anymore. We never should have been in the first place," he said with fervor.

"Harry, I… I can't take your money. You've done so much for me already; it wouldn't be right."

"No, what wouldn't be right is me letting you hide out in that god awful tent for who knows how long when I've more than enough money to share without even noticing. Hermione, you know I've got more money than I even want. You're my– best friend. Let me share it with you," he pleaded.

She was torn. It wasn't right for her to take his money, but how could she say no when he was looking at her like he was?

"Fine, but no more than is necessary for the cheapest hotel I can find," she conceded. It was at that moment that she realized she'd never be able to deny him anything and she doubted she ever had. He smiled his true smile at her, the one she had so desperately missed, and nodded happily. "Do you think we could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to pick some of this stuff up? Oh, or is it not back yet?" she asked, realizing that only a week ago the war had nearly torn wizarding Britain apart. It seemed impossible that everything had finally ended only a week ago; it felt like a lifetime and wondered if it felt shorter for Harry, who hadn't been in a coma for the entire week, or just as long.

"Um, I know some of the stores reopened, but I think it would be best if we went somewhere else. Mrs. Weasley told me about a place in the north that we could go to. It's called Stunderton, I think. We could floo there.

They returned home that night with their arms full of things for Hermione's trip: another bag like she'd used while they were hunting horcruxes, a quill, parchment, and ink for her to write, an owl with which to send letters, a leather arm holster for her wand, and various other items. By 10:30 that night she was all packed and ready to go, even though she wasn't leaving for another day still.

She came down to her packing to find Harry dozing on a couch in the library, his glasses askew. A book lay open across his chest, she noticed curiously. She crept closer to him, trying not to make a sound. Harry had never been a hard sleeper; the slightest noises aroused him, and he always awoke in a state of readiness. So, as quietly and gently as she could, she lifted the book from his chest. His fingers twitched when he was relieved of the book's weight, but he did not stir. Hermione sighed with relief and sat down on the chair at his feet with the tome. It was probably the largest book she'd ever seen Harry with. _Witches, Wizards, and the Effects of Magic on the Memory_, the book was titled. Hermione smiled lovingly at her best friend, still peacefully asleep on the couch. He'd been researching about restoring memories, to help her with her parents.

A sniffle sounded in the room, and Harry began to stir, blinking into consciousness. Damn, when had she started crying? And of all the things to wake him, her _sniffle?_ He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. His attention shot to her when she couldn't stop another sniffle. How she cursed her bloody nose for betraying her.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" He was instantly alert, kneeling in front of her. He rested his hands on her knees and looked at her so intently, worry written all over his already worry-lined face. At this, Hermione began to cry in earnest, tears slipping down her face at a constant rate and falling onto his hands.

"Oh, Hermione, don't cry," he said, leading her to the couch. They sat, his arms wrapped around her as she cried into his chest, for a minute before she spoke.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm being terribly sentimental. It's just… you're the best friend I've ever had and up until this point, we've done everything together. And now I've to go off on my own, and I'm terrified. And then you're down here falling asleep trying find anything that will help me, just like you've always done. You're just so sweet and caring, I don't know what I'll do without you." She'd said it all so fast and through her crying that Harry wasn't sure he caught every word, but he got the gist of it. His lips curved up into a smile over her shoulder. Seeing her like this, seeing the always-composed-and-in-charge-of-the-situation Hermione confused and vulnerable, was one of the most pitiful and endearingly sweet things he'd ever witnessed because he hated seeing her so upset, knowing that she was unhappy; but he also knew that she didn't open up like this for anyone else, and his chest swelled with pride and warmth at that knowledge.

He squeezed her tighter to himself before placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. He took in her splotchy face, her swollen eyes, her trembling lower lip and his heart broke; but she was still beautiful to him. Mustering up his largest smile, he said, "Hermione, you are the best friend I've ever had, and I will always do anything and everything in my power to make sure you are prepared and safe. For all of the times you've put up with me helped me even when I didn't deserve it, it's the very least I can do for you. You will do brilliant without me, I promise you. This house will be empty and lonely without you, but I know this is something you have to do. So I'll wait here, somewhat patiently, until you return and be very glad when that day comes. Because, if your parents choose to stay in Australia or you find that you'd like some space of your own, you always have a room here," he concluded, attempting to not les his nervousness show.

It wasn't like he was asking her to move in with him, but it was very close. And after what happened during the final battle, he realized that he needed her close to him. How would he know if she was safe, happy otherwise? No. It would never do. She'd need to be somewhere near or he's go spare with worry. Before he had long to think about the implications of this thought, Hermione had kissed him on the cheek, pulled him into one of her bone-crushing hugs, and whispered "thank you" in his ear. He shivered at the feel of her warm breath on the side of his face and neck and hugged her back.

Hermione finally disengaged herself from Harry's embrace and stood. "We should really get to bed," she said, punctuating her sentence with a yawn. Harry nodded and mutely followed her up the stairs to the third floor landing. Hermione kissed his cheek again, both her lips and his cheek tingling from the contact, before they entered their respective rooms.

Harry fell asleep quickly, tossing about throughout the night with confused dreams. But they weren't nightmares or even bad dreams… just jumbled messes of images and words that barely made any since to him, so he wasn't woken completely.

Hermione cried herself to sleep that night, thinking that she'd never cried so much before in her life (with the exceptions, perhaps, of her first few weeks at Hogwarts). She vowed that this would be the end of her crying, though. After tonight, she would be the strong witch everyone knew her to be for herself and for her parents and for Harry. This was the end of showing weakness and being a blubbering girl who couldn't keep her emotions in check.


	5. Chapter 5

**Very important A/N: In two weeks, I will be leaving for a six week archaeological dig in the Yucatan. While there, I will not have access to the internet. This means that it will be more than two months until my next update. I apologize for the large break in chapters, but I hope you all have a wonderful summer. Until I return, happy reading! :)**

The next morning, Hermione walked into the kitchen to find Harry reading a letter. It was from Ron, or one of the Weasleys, if Pig cleaning his feathers on the windowsill was any indication. She walked to stand behind Harry and read over his shoulder. It was from Ron, saying that Mrs. Weasley insisted they have dinner at the burrow that night.

She'd apparently gotten the information about Hermione's departure out of Ron and would not take 'no' for an answer; if Hermione was going to leave, then Mrs. Weasley was going to send her off with a full stomach and then some.

"Oh, no. I really didn't want a big send-off. Now everyone is going to make a big deal out of my leaving. I'll never hear the end of it, from Mrs. Weasley especially," Hermione said, taking the seat next to Harry.

"Yeah, she definitely isn't too pleased that you plan on going off by yourself. But you know how she is; she takes everyone in as her own. She's just worried about you, is all. I'll try to distract her as much as I can, though," he replied, smirking playfully.

Hermione hit his arm lightly but smiled herself. Harry: forever her protector. They ate their fill of the substantial breakfast that Kreacher had prepared as they talked amicably. They kept their conversations to small talk, not wanting to think about her fast-approaching departure for an unknown length of time. After breakfast, Hermione double-checked her luggage (all stowed in the magic bag in which they had lived out of during the Horcrux hunt) as Harry sat on her bed, leaned up against the headboard watching her. She had the habit of fussing with her bottom lip when she was concentrating, pulling it between her teeth or running her tongue over it nearly incessantly. Quite frankly, it drove Harry a little crazy. He knew she was barely aware that she was doing it and probably had no idea of the effect it had on him. He just sighed, which went unnoticed by the highly focused Hermione, and continued to watch her; how dreary his life was going to be without her.

A few hours later, Harry and Hermione stood in the hallway just outside of their bedrooms. They clasped hands and with a quieter than average "pop" appeared in the front yard of the Burrow a second later. They could hear voices and general noise coming from inside, and every light in the house was on. Hermione glanced at Harry, who smiled encouragingly at her. She sighed dramatically and stepped forward, making her way toward the house. Harry just followed behind, a knowing smile on his face.

They were greeted with much to-do, as nearly everyone was in the kitchen either helping cook or nicking bits of food. Harry smiled widely as they walked in; it was the lively, chaotic Weasley house again. He had grown tired of it the last time he'd stayed, what with all of the crowd and fuss over the wedding. After having been away from the hectic, warm, fantastic environment for far too long, however, he found he rejoiced in its familiarity.

Once he and Hermione had been passed around and received a hug from everyone, and two from some, they were finally able to sink into the well-worn but oh-so-comfy couch in the living room. Dinner wasn't just ready yet, and those who weren't helping cook were in the backyard talking and laughing. As he and Hermione sat on the couch in companionable silence, Harry thought about the change in the general atmosphere of the house. While, upon first contact, it had seemed like the same environment, he had come to notice a few subtle differences. With Fred gone, the house was a bit more somber than it had been, and George wasn't as mischievous as he had once been. It was still loud, chaotic, and loving, but with a different tone underneath it all.

Harry was quickly brought out of his musings by Hermione calling his name, her voice a bit worried.

"Harry!"

Apparently she'd been calling him more than once.

"Hmm?" he responded, slowly turning his head in her direction.

"Is everything ok?" she asked, placing her hand gently on his cheek and tilting her head to the side slightly.

He smiled his lopsided smile at her before replying, "Yes, yes everything is just fine. I was just thinking, is all. It smells like dinner's nearly ready, doesn't it?" With that, he placed his hand over hers, holding it to his cheek a moment longer before gently bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. He then returned it to her lap and stood before walking towards the hustle and bustle that was, and would always be the Weasley kitchen. Hermione just shook her head, confused by her best mate's strange behavior, and stood to follow him into the kitchen.

Dinner was a clamorous affair, the table stuffed with people and food alike. Mrs. Weasley made everyone's favorites: beef stew, roast chicken, boiled potatoes, chocolate pie, and treacle tart. Ever since finding out that Harry's favorite dessert was treacle tart, she'd made it for every meal she ever served him. He was quite grateful for her thoughtfulness, but slightly upset at the bloatedness he felt after every meal; he just could not force himself to stop eating in time to not feel like he needed to be rolled home. After they'd all finished stuffing their faces until Hermione thought she spied Mr. Weasley unbutton his pants, they moved t the living room. Hermione was quick and the first to claim her spot on the couch, and Harry moved fast enough to take the spot next to her; they knew that those who didn't move in time would be spending the afternoon on the floor, which was not a the most comfortable position after eating such a large meal. But because space was tight, both Ron and George also crammed their way onto the couch. This left Hermione very tightly wedged between the arm of the couch and Harry.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for Hermione. Lately, however, Hermione had become less able to suppress her feelings for a certain best friend. So, she was acutely aware of every point at which they were touching and the warmth and slight tingle she felt at those points, especially where their skin was in contact. She shifted often, trying to not seem uncomfortable. This party was for her, after all; she shouldn't let her inability to control her once-buried feelings for Harry interfere. She tried to push her thoughts and feelings aside to concentrate on the lively conversations going on all around her. And eventually, she was able to, for the most part, ignore the feelings of Harry pushed to tightly against her side and join in on a conversation with Mr. Weasley and Bill about muggles. Because both she and Harry were the only muggle-borns he knew, Mr. Weasley was always very delighted to talk to them about their involvement in the non-magical world. This particular conversation was focused on movies. Mr. Weasley simply did not understand how one could get a picture to move without the use of magic.

Once her conversation had died down, she tuned into what Harry was talking about with Ron and George: quidditch, of course. Not interested in joining their conversation, she instead looked around at everyone in the room, observing them with interest. This was her makeshift family, her only family seeing as how her parents didn't even remember her presently. She'd grown to know and love the band of redheads who had adopted with ease both her and Harry. Fleur, the newest edition to the Weasley clan, stood out the most but was quickly acclimating to the Weasley way of life. Soon, Hermione thought, she would have her own little redheads running around. She sighed at the thought; it was so nice to be able to think about the future without having to wonder if she would even see it. Now, they were all free to live their lives and think about the future as they pleased. And it was wonderful. Her sigh prompted Harry to glance at her curiously. She just smiled at him, which he returned with one of his signature lopsided grins before returning to his conversation.

Harry was woken the next morning by something tickling his chin. But before opening his eyes and fully meeting the day, his senses registered the comforting smell of vanilla and orange that he'd grown so accustomed to as well as a warm weight on his right arm and chest. A smile grew on his face as he realized his situation: he and Hermione had fallen asleep on her bed last night, and she must have repositioned herself in her sleep. Then he remembered why they had fallen asleep together. It was after eleven when they returned from the Weasley's, full to the brim and exhausted. Harry had walked her to her room. Not wanting to part from her just yet, however, they'd sat together and continued talking They'd talked about her leaving tomorrow –today –and they'd talked about anything and everything just so she didn't have to be alone before she left to be on her own for an undetermined amount of time. Though Harry knew she'd never admit it, he knew she was actually slightly afraid of being alone.

While he and Hermione hadn't had many deep talks about their past, they had briefly told one another about their pre-Hogwarts lives. Harry knew that Hermione hadn't had too many childhood friends before Hogwarts and had therefore developed a dislike for being truly alone. Sure, she preferred to have some time to herself while at Hogwarts, but she knew that she wasn't truly alone. Harry and Ron were both always around somewhere as was the gaggle of Gryffindor girls she considered herself at least somewhat friends with.

So, to keep her mind off of her solo journey, they had talked into the early morning hours before finally giving in to the sleep that tugged at their heavy eyelids. Remembering their conversation the previous night and that fact that she was leaving in just a few short hours, Harry almost unconsciously pulled Hermione's sleeping form closer. She made a noise of contentment, something between a sigh and a mew like a kitten that made Harry chuckle despite his efforts to suppress it.

The deep rumbling in his chest, however, woke Hermione completely. She blinked several times before opening her eyes fully and tilting her head to see the face that belonged to the chest she currently was using as a pillow. She was met with her favorite pair of emerald eyes and a smile that reached those eyes, an occurrence that had been so rare in the past year especially.

"Good morning," he said, smiling down at her in a way that she was sure she could get used to.

"Morning," she replied, stretching against him before realizing that this act was mildly inappropriate and sitting up. Despite not getting to sleep until well after midnight, she felt better rested than she had in awhile.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, also sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the side-table. He was glad he'd had the sense to take them off before finally falling asleep the previous night; it was never comfortable sleeping with them on.

"Yes, but I don't see how after everything I ate last night," she said, smiling and standing to stretch again. Harry chuckled at her response and poked the part of her stomach that was exposed from her stretch. She immediately recoiled, her hands shooting down to swat his fingers away; but he was too fast. He was the youngest seeker in a century, after all. He yanked his fingers away, replaced them where her hands weren't covering, and continued his assault on her stomach. She doubled over, squirming and swatting at him to no avail.

"Ahh! Harry! Stop, stop! I can't… breathe!" she laughed out, panting. At her request, he finally stopped attack on her most ticklish area but kept his arms around her to hold her up, for which she was grateful because she would've hit the floor for sure without his help. When she'd caught her breath, she turned on him and slapped his chest.

"What a jerk!" But her smile betrayed her. He simply grinned cheekily at her, kissed her flushed cheek, and walked from the room. Hermione just shook her head and followed him to the kitchen. After a short wait, Kreacher filled the table with the usual spread of which they ate their fill. They talked little as they ate, the event they'd both been so dreading drawing ever nearer. After they finished, they showered and met back in Hermione's room.

She was sitting on her bed when he walked in, the bed made and everything in its place.

"I, uh, shrunk my luggage already," she said, only sounding half as melancholy as she was feeling.

"Do you have the portkey Mr. Weasley gave you?"

"Yes, right here," she affirmed, holding up the yellow rubber ducky. They both chuckled a bit at the item. He looked at her, seemingly examining the bath toy in her lap, for a moment longer before going to sit beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

"I really need you to be careful, ok?"

"Harry, you know-"

"I know you're always careful," he gently cut her off, "but I need you to promise that you'll be more careful than ever. There could still be rogue Death Eaters or even just dangerous muggles. And I… I just really need you to come back, all right?"

Hermione was nearly brought to tears by his heartfelt request. He'd never asked something of her in such a way, and she knew that if she couldn't refuse him under normal circumstances, she had no chance now.

"I promise. Constant vigilance, right?"

He chuckled shortly before pulling her into a real hug. She wrapped her arms around him also, trying to engrain the feel of his arms around her and his smell in her brain before having to be parted from him. If she could pretend he was with her on the nights she was alone, maybe it would make them a bit easier.

Eventually they released one another and stood, only a few minutes until the portkey activated and transported her to the main magical town in Australia.

"Write to me, ok?" Harry said, taking her hand in his.

"Isn't it always me begging you to do just that?" She gave a watery laugh. "You know I will."

"I'll miss you," he whispered, engulfing her in his arms again. She squeezed him tightly and kissed his cheek as she pulled away.

"I'll miss you, too. But I'll be back soon, hopefully. Just don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, yeah?"

"You got it," he smiled. The duck began to glow faintly blue, a warning that it was soon to activate. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long for a normal, friendly kiss. With a sigh, he pulled back and caressed her cheek with his hand. She mouthed a "bye" before disappearing from the room. A moment later, she was standing in the middle of an empty bar somewhere near Sydney. A tear slid down her cheek that she didn't even bother to wipe away, glad that she'd at least been able to hold it in until she wasn't with Harry. He would've grabbed hold of the portkey as well if he'd seen her crying, and she simply couldn't have that.

At the same moment, Harry was slowly walking out of Hermione's room. He closed the door behind him with a heartbreaking "click," a sound that seemed too final for his liking. What was he going to do with himself for however long she was gone? With the exception of summers and a few Christmases, he'd never really been away from her at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello again everyone! So, hopefully you all know from my last update (the author's notes are very important, people) that I was supposed to be gone for six months on an archaeological dig in Mexico. Well, unfortunately (though fortunately for you, I suppose) I had to return due to some medical issues. This means that I've had the past few weeks –when I'm not at one doctor or another –to continue this story! Isn't that just magnificent? Also, as I don't have a job or any other immediate plans for the summer, the next chapter should be up within the next week or two, also. So, without further ado: Chapter Five. Enjoy! **

The following morning, Harry was munching a piece of toast in the kitchen when he received a letter from Hermione that was delivered by the largest owl he'd ever seen. He eagerly took the letter from the large, brown bird and broke the seal.

_Harry,_

_I know you won't receive this until tomorrow morning, but I wanted to let you know that I got settled in for the night just fine. This town is really quite charming. News must travel fast because the innkeeper recognized me; it was very odd. Is this how you've felt all these years, being recognized by people you've never met before?_

_Anyhow, it's nice here. Warmer than I'm used to, but it's bearable. I miss you. I've grown quite accustomed to your presence this past week, and I'm a bit lonely. I hope to find my parents and return quickly. I'm sorry this is short, but I promise to write as often as I can. There will be about a day delay due to the distance, but I rented this bird and was told he was reliable. Just send your reply with him, please. _

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Mione_

Harry smiled to himself upon seeing how she signed her letter; it was the first time he'd heard her refer to herself by the nickname he'd given her. He liked it. She'd never told him to not call him that before, but she didn't seem to particularly like it either as she would sometimes roll her eyes at him when he used it. And he was certainly the only one allowed to call her anything other than Hermione. He gave the owl a piece of his sausage and asked her to stay put before heading to the drawing room to write a reply to her letter.

_Mione,_

_This is the biggest owl I've ever seen! I suppose he's great with the distance. By the way, what is his name?_

_I'm glad you got settled in well. I miss you, too. Things here just aren't the same without you around. I hope you find your parents soon, and always remember I'm here if you need any help or anything at all. Please be careful. _

_Love,_

_Harry_

They exchanged letters nearly everyday for two weeks. It was a comforting break from all of the other letters he'd had to respond to. The ministry was contacting him nearly every day, it seemed, wanting him to give this speech or attend this conference. He'd done an interview with both the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler, _much to Luna and her father's delight. Mrs. Weasley was very insistent upon him attending their family dinner every few nights. It was a bit awkward at first, what with Fred's absence and the strange tons his and Ginny's relationship had taken. In the week Hermione had been unconscious, they'd had a talk. Harry had explained that after all he'd been through, he was a different person and just didn't think they were going to work. She was upset, but could sense the truth of his words and agreed they should remain friends. So, things between them were a bit awkward but were slowly returning to how they'd been before he and Ginny had dated.

But when he didn't receive a letter from her for a few days, he began to worry but tried to reassure himself that she was fine. She was probably doing heavy research or perhaps she'd even found her parents. Finally, after it had been a week since he'd sent a reply to her last letter, he received a reply.

_Harry,_

_I've found them, my parents! Sorry I haven't written in so long; it's a long story. Anyhow, I'm trying to plan things with them. I'll write as I can and try to keep you updated. _

_With love,_

_Mione_

Harry smiled at the happy news, and he was sure he hadn't smiled so wide since she'd left. He quickly wrote a reply, not much longer than hers. He simply told her he was glad she'd found them and to be safe. He knew this meant he would be seeing her again soon, and his heart soared.

Harry was woken by Kreacher calling his name quite loudly. "What is it, Kreacher?" he nearly yelled, frustrated at being woken in the middle of the night by the elf.

"Master Potter has a visitor in the sitting room, sir," the elf said, bowing until his nose touched the ground.

"Who the hell did you let in at this hour?" Harry asked, his head still buried in his pillow. When he received no answer, he lifted his head to see that the elf had vanished. Harry looked to his table and saw it was a quarter to two in the morning. Grunting his annoyance, he dragged himself out of bed, put on his glasses, and threw on a shirt; whoever was calling on him at this hour would just have to deal with him wearing pajamas.

He trudged down the narrow stairs, making much more noise than entirely necessary and nearly losing his balance at least twice. By the time he reached the half-shut door to the sitting room he was fully awake and experiencing more emotions than he thought possible at such an early hour. On his way down the stairs, many possibilities as to who the visitor may be had popped into his head and he had gone from annoyed to anxious (what if it was someone coming to tell him there had been another rogue Death Eater attack?) to angry (thinking about the rogue Death Eaters and everyone who had been injured or killed for him) to frightened (it couldn't be someone come to tell him that something terrible had happened to Hermione in her quest, for it had been nearly two weeks since she'd written). And when, on the last few steps before the landing, his emotions tried to take a turn towards hopeful, he stopped them short. There had been too many times since her departure that he'd let himself become so full of hope that his visitor was her that he couldn't take it not being her again.

But all of his fears and anxieties were settled as he pushed open the door to the sitting room to reveal none other than Hermione Jean Granger standing in front of the fire. She hadn't heard the door open, so she continued to stand looking into the fire, her hands fidgeting behind her back. From his position at the door, Harry had a profile view of her. She looked the same as she always had, hair a little unmanageable but pulled back, face set in concentration as she thought deeply about something as she stared into the fire.

He cleared his throat, not able to coax actual words from his mouth. She immediately turned towards the noise, her face glowing with recognition. They stood and stared at one another for a few seconds before Harry, for the first time in their seven years of friendship, nearly ran towards her and engulfed her in his arms. Her arms went around him in turn, and she hugged him back with equal vigor. It had been a month and a half since they had seen each other, a very long month and a half for both of them.

He breathed in her scent: orange and vanilla with a hint of something new, it was what Harry imagined the Sun smelled like. No matter what it was, he liked it. They stayed in each other's arms for what seemed like forever and not long enough, but finally parted. Harry noticed that she looked a bit more tan than he remembered, her hair just a touch lighter. She was wearing striped shorts and a t-shirt, and she was looking back at him with an expression that he assumed mirrored his own. He reached forward and pushed a strand of her slightly lighter hair behind her ear. Then she smiled at him; it was a sight he'd sorely missed, and he could barely remember a time she'd smiled so widely at him. It made his own face split in the almost unfamiliar expression; he'd smiled so little while she was gone, he now realized. And then they were back in one another's arms again.

"Oh, Harry. I've missed you so much," Hermione breathed, her warm breath tickling his neck.

He tried to suppress a shiver as he replied, "You've no idea."

She let out a watery laugh and sniffled. "I think I might. But no matter," she said, pulling away again but keeping him at arms length. "I'm sorry for coming so late, or rather early. I was just so excited to get back that I didn't even consider the time change; as soon as I was ready I came straight here."

"Don't be silly, I'm glad you came straight here. I've been driving everyone mad while you've been gone, especially since I hadn't really heard from you the last two weeks," he said, wiping the tear tracks from her face.

"Oh, I know, and I'm so sorry, Harry! These last few weeks just got so crazy trying to figure out everything with my parents and plan coming home. I felt so bad about not keeping you updated." She was clearly distressed.

"Hey. Hey, it's ok. I know it must've been hard finding them and explaining everything. Look, why don't we get some tea and you can tell me all about it, ok?"

She nodded mutely, a small smile on her lips. Harry called Kreacher and asked for tea to be made, and he and Hermione sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. Harry started a fire even though it wasn't really cold, and Kreacher returned with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"So," Harry said once they'd gotten comfortable, "start from the beginning."

"Well," she started, sucking in a large breath, "as you know I arrived in the wizard town of Henderton near Sydney. I used the money you insisted I take to get a room at the local pub. After I'd gotten all of my things settled, I set out for Sydney and the library." At this, Harry rolled his eyes in a very loving "of course" manner. "Well, I didn't find any record of them in Sydney. When I asked the librarian, she said I'd need to go to the library in Canberra, the capital, for full records of everyone. So, even though Canberra isn't all that far from Sydney, I decided to wait until the next day to go because I'd have to travel the muggle way since I didn't know my way around."

She paused to take a sip of her tea before continuing, "The next day, I found them listed as living in Albury, which is pretty near to Canberra. Well, after spending nearly a week in Albury searching high and low for them, I found out that they hadn't lived in Albury at all. There was an error in the registry; they actually live in Albany, which is clear across the country. It took me two days to get there since the only way was by car. It's absolutely beautiful, driving through areas where there's nothing at all but open plain and troops of kangaroo and other animals. Oh, and the sunset's the most gorgeous thing you could ever see. And…"

As she went off on a tangent, Harry mostly –though inadvertently –tuned out what she was saying. Instead, he sat admiring her: her soft, slightly lighter curls, her smooth skin, the way her little pink lips moved over her straight and perfectly normal-sized teeth. Every once and a while he would catch a word or two: "freshest air" and "lovely people." But Harry's attention was immediately refocused on her when he heard her say, "And we just have to go."

"What?" he asked, hoping she didn't notice he hadn't been listening very well.

"Oh, I just… I only meant that I think you'd really like it there and that, since I've been, we could go together and I could show you around. But-"

"Hermione," he cut her off before she began ranting again, "That sounds wonderful."

She smiled and let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Seeing the intensity of his eyes on hers, she turned and looked out the window, her cheeks tinged pink. "Oh my goodness, Harry. It's morning already!"

Harry followed her gaze out the window and saw the sun creeping in through the curtains. "Well, it is," he said, returning his eyes to her. She yawned, trying to hide the action behind her hand. "Come on," he laughed, "let's get you to bed; you can finish your story in the morning. When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

"Oh, about-" another yawn, "twenty-four hours ago. I stayed up all night getting ready for today."

"Well, I think we could both use some sleep, then," he said, helping her to her feet while fighting a yawn himself. She nodded in agreement and followed him up the stairs. He led them into his bedroom, and she followed without protest. They sat on either side of the bed and kicked their shoes off before falling back onto the pillows. She scooted closer to him, turning onto her side and curling into him. He wrapped an arm around her and sighed in contentment. They both felt as though something had clicked into place, like they had been off-kilter for the past few weeks. It was a relief to be right once again.

Harry turned his head to tell Hermione good night and perhaps kiss her forehead. Fortunately, he did this at the exact moment Hermione moved to kiss his cheek good night. These actions occurring simultaneously resulted in Hermione planting her lips directly onto Harry's. It took them both a moment to realize what was happening in their sleepy stupor, and they both pulled away, shocked yet reluctant. Too tired to process what had happened and unwilling to break the spell that seemed to have settled over them, Hermione mumbled "good night" before laying her head on his shoulder and promptly falling asleep. Harry followed her into slumber a moment later.

P.S.

It would be wonderful for my health if you all could let me know what you think of this story's progression. Any and all comments are helpful/welcome. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ok... so, one month and two tonsils later I finally have an update for y'all! Before we carry on, I have a few things I'd like to say. First, thank you everyone who reviewed and has been loyal to this story. I very much appreciate it. Like really, it's awesome! You guys rock! Second, this chapter is a bit short and I do apologize for that. I move back to school this weekend and start school Monday, but I promise that won't take away from this! Now, on to the story! Enjoy. :)**

When Hermione woke, she was more warm and comfortable than she remembered being in some time. She registered that she was not in the guest room of her parents' home in Australia. Instead, the musky, outdoorsy sent of her best friend filled her nose, and she realized that her pillow was moving up and down slowly. When she gathered the strength to open one eye, she was met with the expanse of Harry's shirt-clad chest. She could faintly hear his heartbeat and smiled when she remembered what had happened the night prior. It had been a complete accident, but it was wonderful nonetheless. She'd spent years fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss Harry. And though it wasn't the fireworks she always imagined, his lips were warm and soft and felt so absolutely perfect against hers. And she blamed the lack of fireworks on their state of half-slumber.

After watching him sleep for a few minutes, she realized she very badly needed to relieve herself. When was the last time she'd gone to the bathroom? Not wanting to disturb him, she slowly sat up and eased herself off of the bed. She padded nearly silently into the adjoining bathroom. After using the restroom and brushing her teeth with her finger, she opened the door to see Harry sitting up. He smiled warmly at her, not moving from his spot on the bed. She returned his smile and climbed back onto the bed. She sat next to him, her torso turned to see him.

"Good morning," he said, his smile still in place, "How did you sleep?"

"Rather well, and yourself?"

"Better than I have in ages. Are you hungry?"

She nodded but didn't move to get up. Instead, she scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. In return, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer still. They breathed in each other's scents happily.

"I missed you very much," Hermione said, the first to break the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

"You've no idea. Several times I had to stop myself from going straight to Australia and hunting you down. It's been so long since I haven't seen you every day. I thought I was going to go crazy," Harry replied, his stomach rumbling.

"Then it's best I'm back, and we'd better get you something to eat," she replied, chuckling slightly.

He nodded, and they both slowly moved to get up. Noticing they were both wearing yesterday's clothes Hermione said, "I suppose we should change, too." But as she moved to walk out of the door, Harry took hold of her forearm and pulled her back to him. He saw her confused expression for only a second before gently pressing his lips to hers once again. When he'd woken that morning, he hadn't been able to think about anything other than the kiss they'd shared the previous night.

Hesitating only a moment, Hermione returned his kiss. Her hands snaked to the back of his neck as his arms wound themselves about her waist. He pulled away a moment later, thinking it would always be too soon. He smiled at her dazed expression, her lips slightly parted and her eyes half-lidded. When she realized he was looking at her, a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.

"What…"

"Come on," Harry smiled, "let's get dressed and get something to eat." And much to Hermione's ever increasing confusion and curiosity, Harry leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently before releasing her and turning back to his dresser. She walked out of his room almost mechanically, her mind not at all focused on her motor skills. Last night may have been an accident, but this morning certainly was not. What did all of this mean? Did he like her, or was this just misplaced feelings? Had he finally opened his eyes to see that she was perfect for him, had always been there for him, or was he just so happy to have his best friend back that he thought he was feeling something he wasn't? Oh, she had been so happy! Why did she always have to do this, over-think everything? With a sigh, she made a promise to herself to stop overanalyzing whatever was happening with Harry and just go with it. This is what she'd always wanted, after all. With that done, she looked down to see she had managed to pull on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top during all of her musings.

Shrugging, she made her way down to the kitchen to see Harry poking at a pan on the stove.

"That smells wonderful," she said, stopping just behind his shoulder and peeking around him to catch a glimpse at what he was making. There were several slices of bacon and two eggs frying in the pan.

"Thank you. Do you want to get the plates and things?" he asked, looking up at her briefly before returning his attention to their food. She nodded and grabbed two plates and glasses from the cabinet to the left of the sink and two forks and butter knifes from the drawer under the cabinet containing plates. She set the items out on the table and grabbed the container of orange juice from the fridge. Hermione was always glad Harry kept it around because even though they both agreed that pumpkin juice was good, they had grown up on orange juice and it remained their preference.

She took a seat at the table and waited for Harry to finish, knowing he wouldn't let her assist him further. In a few minutes, Harry turned and slid an egg and some bacon from the skillet to Hermione's plate. She smiled her thanks and waited for him to fill his own plate, put the skillet in the sink, and take his seat before beginning to eat. She sighed appreciatively as she chewed; her parents were good cooks, but there was something about Harry's cooking that made it extra-delicious.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Hermione asked between bites.

"Not much, thankfully. Things were a bit busy while you were gone but have slowed down the past few days. I was thinking about going down to see how George and Ron are getting on with the shop." At Hermione's confused and questioning glance, he continued. "George decided the idle life wasn't for him and that he needed to get the shop running again. He said it was his and Fred's dream and that he needed to continue it in Fred's honor. Ron decided to help out. You know, since we didn't finish Hogwarts and the entire wizarding world is a bit mussed right now he figured there wasn't anything better for him to do. George appreciated it, too."

"That's good of Ron. I'm glad they're trying to get back to life. I know… I know it's not been long, but it's not good to… dwell. Oh, I'm still so upset I missed the funerals! I should have been there for everyone who lost their lives, for you! I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Harry," she said, tears swimming in her eyes. She'd tried to not think about it; it hadn't been her fault. She told herself there was nothing she could have done, but then the truth that she could have been more careful and not been hit in the first place always made its way into her thoughts.

"Hermione," Harry said, both gently and sternly, "don't be ridiculous. You were hurt, very badly. No one is upset with you."

"But," she started, a traitorous tear making its way our of her eye, "I should have… I should've been more careful! I shouldn't have been hit at all Constant vigilance! I should have done better."

As she finished her lamentation, Harry walked around the table and knelt at her side. She sniffed as she looked down at him, tears now following one another down her face. He reached up and wiped the tears from her face before taking her hands in his.

"Hermione. How many times have you told me that it wasn't my fault? That there was nothing better I could have done? Well, it's my turn to share your wisdom with you. It wasn't your fault. I know you wish you could have been there, but you shouldn't worry about it. They all know you loved them, that you couldn't have been there. Ok?"

She nodded and gave a watery smile. Harry returned her smile and stood. She too stood and was immediately enveloped in his arms. She immediately felt better, like she was home.

"We don't have to go to the shop, if you don't want," Harry said when they released one another.

"No. No, I want to. I need to properly rejoin wizarding society. Let me just go… freshen up a bit before we go."

Harry nodded understandingly and began to clean up what they'd dirtied with breakfast. Thirty minutes later, they were holding hands in the hall before disappearing with a pop.

3


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Ok... so sorry my chapters seem to be getting shorter... I promise to try to not let them get any worse than this. School is crazy, but all of your readership and support is very encouraging. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! As I'm sure you can all tell, there are only a few more chapters of this left... so let's all hope it ends how I want it to -which is a way that I am inclined to think everyone reading will enjoy. Anyhow, no more of my nonsense. Onward!**

**This chapter has been edited and hopefully the mistakes have been fixed. Thanks to that loyal reviewer for pointing out my mistakes! :)**

Harry and Hermione appeared in the Leaky Cauldron, startling the bartender, Tom.

"OH! Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, how good to see you! What can I get for you, anything?"

"Tom, I've asked you a million times: call me Harry. It's just Harry," Harry said, shaking his head at the man. Hermione smiled warmly at the exchange. So few people treated him like a normal person. He'd always been 'just Harry' to her.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Pot –Harry."

"And we're just headed to Diagon Alley, Tom" Hermione said, smiling at the man. He nodded vigorously and went back to wiping glasses with a dirty rag.

Hermione took Harry's hand and led him to the brick wall behind the pub. She tapped the appropriate bricks and the wall disintegrated, revealing an archway that led to Diagon Alley. Still hand and hand, they made their way up the winding street. Many shops had not reopened and those that had looked as if they could still use some repairs. Many people gaped and pointed at Harry and Hermione as they made their way; some went so far as to attempt to stop the pair and chat. They, to the best of their abilities, ignored the pointing and politely excused themselves from those who were bold enough to stop them. Finally, they arrived at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Luckily the shop wasn't too busy, and Ron spotted them almost immediately.

"Harry! Hermione!" He called as he made his way to them. They all smiled at one another, and Ron hugged Hermione warmly and half-hugged Harry in the way that men hug one another.

"Blimey Hermione, I didn't know you were back. When did you get back? You been hiding her from us, Harry?" Ron asked, smirking at Harry. Harry blushed lightly and shook his head but said nothing.

Mildly confused and wildly curious about the exchange, Hermione said, "I only got back yesterday…. Or early this morning, I guess. It was much too late to owl; Harry's not been hiding me away," she teased back, earning a deeper blush from Harry.

"Oh, well that's ok then," Ron replied, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Let's go find George; I know he'd love to see you both."

The pair followed Ron, who nodded at the girl working at the register, to the back where George was tinkering with a small, heart-shaped object at a desk.

"Oy, George! Look who's here."

George turned in his seat, a smile forming upon seeing Harry and Hermione standing behind Ron.

"Harry!" he said, standing and moving to clap Harry on the shoulder. "Good to see you, mate. And when did you get back, Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled as she hugged the tall redhead. "Just last night. I promise we couldn't have come any sooner," she said, glancing at Harry to see if he would blush again. Unfortunately for her he was looking away from her, inspecting rather interestedly an object on a table. Shaking her head slightly, she returned her attention to George and Ron.

"Well, we're glad you came here first," Ron said, seeming genuinely pleased. Her initial reaction to his happiness at seeing her (which was to always internally cringe because she knew he harbored a long-time crush on her and didn't want to lead him on –she was, after all, madly in love with Harry) was suppressed by his prior teasing of Harry for keeping her to himself. Instead, his excitement to see her made her realize that she'd missed him while she'd been away; he always seemed to lighten the mood.

"I knew you would be," Harry said, finally deciding he could join the conversation again.

"Well, not that you're here why don't I show you all the latest products?" George said, standing and walking towards the front of the shop.

After giving Harry and Hermione a tour of the new products out for sale, they returned to the back of the store where George showed off the items he was working on. There were a few items he was making in collaboration with the Ministry, an attempt at a new creature similar to a Pygmy Puff ("Since that one was such a hit with the little ladies"), a whoopee cushion that glued itself to the sitter's butt and continued to emit a foul odor for an hour, and several other items sure to make parents and teachers everywhere cringe.

Harry found himself chuckling several times at Hermione's tsks of disapproval until she realized he was chuckling at her and elbowed him in the side, a smug smile on her face. Once everything had been shown and demonstrated or explained, the four sat in the back of the shop chatting pleasantly until Ron's stomach growled loudly.

"Hungry, Ronald?"

"He's always hungry," Harry said, not allowing Ron a chance to answer.

"Go on then, you three go get some lunch. It's not too busy around here just now, anyway," George said, moving back to his workbench. With a chorused "thanks" from the trio, they exited the front of the shop and made their way back to the Leaky Couldron for lunch.

"So, you know mum is going to want you over for dinner as soon as she hears you're back… probably tonight," Ron said, leaning back and sipping his butterbeer.

"I figured as much. I do think I'd like to go home for a bit before heading to the Burrow, though. I didn't have much with me, but I would like to unpack and write to mum and dad to let them know I'm back safely."

"When are you going to tell us the whole story about your parents, again?"

"Ronald! I told you I'd explain to everyone at dinner tonight. It took me hours to tell Harry last night, and I don't fancy repeating it more than necessary," she replied, shaking her head at him.

"All right, all right. I'm just curious, is all."

"I know, it's just better this way. Do you think you're ready to head back, Harry?" she asked, turning her attention to her other best friend. "We didn't get much sleep, and I think I might fancy a nap before I start unpacking and doing all of that."

"Yeah, ready when you are," he said. When he glanced at Ron, Hermione noticed, Harry got a peculiar look on his face and blushed again. She turned her attention to Ron but he'd stopped whatever he'd been doing. Her interest piqued again at what had transpired between the two while she'd been gone, she made a mental note to ask Harry about it later.

"Ok. We'll see you at the Burrow tonight, Ron? Around six?"

The ginger just nodded in reply before standing and hugging them both. They said their farewells, and Ron watched as Harry took Hermione's hand and disapparated then back to Grimmauld.


End file.
